Tuesday, May 22, 2007

This entry shall conclude my "coverage," such as it was, of "The Bachelor; An Officer and a Gentleman," or as B and I like to say "A Softie and a Lecher."
Glory be, last night was the finale, and I won the bet because Our Fine Lecher, Andy, chose Tessa, the girl who didn't like him, or at least seemed not to like him. She was astoundingly poorly spoken, and I am usually empathetic because I am poorly spoken when it comes to verbally being on the spot, but she was painful to listen to.
Anyway despite apparently not being that into each other, they are engaged. There's supposed to be an update program about them on tonight, if you are interested.
Even I thought for a while that he might choose Bevin, what with the declarations of undying love from both of them and the constant French kissing. But he gave her the boot, sobbing all the while! What a big softie.
I think there were a couple of issues that really nailed Bevin's coffin shut, including the fact that she is currently developing a study on libido in menopausal women, which scandalized The Lecher's grandpa, and the fact that she was raised in the Baha'i (probably spelled wrong) faith, which grandpa had certainly never heard of and didn't like the sound of.
Also she'd previously been married and was a major drama queen.
Anyway that's about all! Next up will be Blake on American Idol. We'll find out Wednesday if he won, and if so then Mike owes me $10. :-)

Monday, May 21, 2007

This article is so great. I've often wondered how those lazy bastards lounging in the sun or sipping lattes at 2 p.m. managed to get such a sweet gig.

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

So last night I watched "Dateline," and they had a report about a woman in New Jersey who shot her husband while he was sleeping, cut his body into three pieces, put them in her luggage and flung them into the Chesapeake Bay.
I am guessing that is why I then had a nightmare that a woman in my office turned someone else's husband into deli meat (she's never one to be outdone) and slathered his remains in salsa or salad dressing or something. It's one of the few dreams I recall smelling things.
Anyway in the dream I was certain that I knew who'd killed this guy and turned him into deli meat, so I told my friend Mike Oz, who needed to know for some reason. And then it turned out to be this psycho woman I work with and I felt bad for slandering this other woman. In my dream I was also an artist who painted wings on women's backs. It's all bizarre, I know.
I think my work anxiety and my watching of weird TV (recently I saw "The Omen," quite an unwise choice for a person who consistently has nightmares when watching scary movies) are melding in my dreams. Because at work this week, two people were laid off, and I had felt about 65 percent certain that I was going to be laid off, too. And now I am finding out I am not going to be laid off but that I am going to have more work to do.

Thursday, May 10, 2007

I am on a new diet, and actually you aren't going to believe this because I've spent more than half of my life on a diet, but I have never tried this particular type of diet because I somehow believed it didn't work.
So I am counting calories. I do this through Self's diet club (Self is a fitness magazine that I, inexplicably, subcribe to) online, and I log everything I eat and it tells me the calories and then I sit and mull for a while the fact that I have probably been eating about three times the calories that I SHOULD have been eating, hence it is no wonder that I have gained 20 lbs since getting married. Yes. 20 lbs. The scale kept inching up quite frighteningly toward numbers never previously seen, and it is now at the breaking point. Well, my pants are at the breaking point, anyway. It's either lose the weight or buy an ENTIRE new wardrobe, and being the thrifty person I am, I simply must lose the weight.
I am supposed to eat 1385 calories per day in order to lose 2 lbs per week. This is if I am sedentary, which ordinarily, I am. I am beyond sedentary. I am sloth-like. I roll from my bed to the shower, to the car, to my desk, to my car, to my couch. I have tried wearing pedometers but had to stop because it was depressing. You are supposed to walk 10,000 steps a day (at least) in order to maintain a healthy lifestyle and I was barely managing 3,000. My goal is to start doing some kind of exercise, perhaps my 20 minute yoga tape for starters. Or my 20 minute butt blaster pilates tape.
I have now eaten 464 calories for the day, which leaves me with 912 calories to play with for the rest of the day. This is entertaining, really. I could eat an ice cream sundae and call it a day. That is what I like about this calorie-counting business. There's no cutting out bad carbs or desserts, it's just you stop eating when you've reached your limit! Glory be.

Tuesday, May 08, 2007

So we put Hubs' grandma in a home. It's a small house run by a group of strange but kind Romanian women (grandma asked, "why did you send me to live with the Mexicans?") who call their wards "honey" and "sweetie." They pretty much barely speak English. But they're very kind!

Nonetheless, we are suffering serious guilt pangs since she is so hell bent against living with the Mexicans. We felt a little better yesterday as we were packing some of her things yesterday to bring to her new home and came across several notes she wrote to either herself or "them" -- the people who are "stealing" from her. A number of items have gone missing, including cottage cheese and underwear. In one note she writes that she dreamed she died. Very strange. But it makes us feel better about what we had to do.

Friday, May 04, 2007

So much for practicing benevolence in the hopes of attracting good karma! Yesterday was a red-letter bad karma day. I found out the Type 2 diabetes my sister has is really Type 1 and she has to inject herself 4 times a day to stay healthy. This makes me 15 times more susceptible to getting diabetes as well.
And then B and I spent the evening in the emergency room with his grandmother, who, it seems, went off the deep end and called 911 for unknown reasons. Cops ultimately decided she needed to be hospitalized immediately and should not be living on her own.
Which results in us canceling our much anticipated vacation. We planned to leave Monday.
All of this has resulted in a new phenomenon. I'm becoming one of Those People. One of those people who always has something going wrong in their life and you just sort of look at like "what did this person do to piss off God?"

Wednesday, May 02, 2007

Every day there's some new pain, some new pain pang somewhere on my body, and I become pretty much convinced I am about to die. I've probably got cancer or a blood disease or a parasite or some kind of rare, incurable illness. It's a matter of time before I find out for sure. I was thinking about this today (more than usual anyway) because a friend of mine who died a couple of weeks ago at age 30 of a sudden and completely unexpected heart attack (as if they ever are expected) reportedly told his wife he had a premonition he was going to die. This was two days before he died.
I thought this was rather creepy, but get this! That's not unusual, apparently! A nurse friend of mine tells me an Impending Sense Of Doom is common among people who are about to have major heart events.
And lo and behold, we looked in the handy dandy book my health care provider sent me in the hopes that I will try to self-cure (which I do, often) rather than see a doctor (I do my best to make sure United Health Care has enough money in its pocket) and it said "If you feel like you are about to die, you may in danger of a heart attack and should see a doctor."
I'm paraphrasing, by the way, but that's really what it said!
So this is not even a physical symptom! This is just you having a horrible feeling you are about to die!
This is my question. How STRONG is this feeling that you are about to die? Apparently it was strong enough that my friend felt the need to mention it to his wife. If I mentioned to my husband every time I had a sneaking suspicion I was about to die, he would have left me by now. For example, the last time I felt death approaching was while I was sitting at my desk at work today, having a stroke. Well, maybe it was just heartburn.
But seriously. I need to speak with someone who has actually had a heart attack and experienced this Impending Sense of Doom. Because I need to know how to differentiate between my normal everyday Impending Sense of Doom and the Real Deal.
Anyway my husband mentioned something to me the other day that's been sticking in my mind regarding karma and the fact that we seem to lack the good variety. This would be due to the fact that we've been to more funerals than weddings in the last 12 months and the fact that his grandmother is going to drive him to murder, among other more petty irritations like the fact that we both sort of detest our jobs and wish we could be a novelist and a race car driver (me and him, respectively) instead.
So now we're working on our good karma: Letting people merge in front of us more, smiling at strangers and mentally ill people more, practicing deep breathing with the most aggravating people in our lives more and in general attempting to force ourselves to Think Nice. Wish us luck...